


soft yet controlled

by hey_you_with_the_face



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ballet Instructor Steve, Baltimore Dragons, Brooklyn Bruisers, Dancer Steve, Fluff, Hockey Player Bucky, Humor, M/M, Made up NHL teams, NHL Player Bucky, bucky is in over his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face
Summary: Bucky's tired of taking the brute force method when he's on the ice and wants to better his game so he does what anybody else does, he joins a ballet class...





	soft yet controlled

**Author's Note:**

> (Dudes, this fic has an even amount of words!?! I didn't even plan that so that makes this feel so awesome, haha...)

Bucky stared at the doorknob in front of him. To an outside observer, it would look like he was afraid it was going to come alive and bite him. He’d been standing outside this particular door for far longer than was socially acceptable, he knew this, but he still didn’t move. 

Footsteps walking down the hall startled him and he jumped to the side before looking over to see two women approaching. They were chatting animatedly; their hands clutching small exercise bags and they were wearing workout gear. The women paid him no mind as they brushed past him and opened the door he’d been staring at with dread. Before Bucky could capitalize on this good fortune of the door being already opened, the door shut with a soft click thereby leaving him face to face with the doorknob.

Again.

_I can’t believe I’m going in there_ , he thought, his face flushing slightly. The idea that he was too chicken shit to even open the damn door pissed him off. 

He was a goddamn hockey player. He’d stared down guys bigger than him and knocked them down on the ice with ease. He had, to the team manager’s and coaches’ chagrin, the highest number of penalty minutes in the entire NHL. He was that player that every team dreaded when they faced off against the Brooklyn Bruisers.

Bucky squared his shoulders and reached out to turn the knob before he strode inside, confidence swelling inside his chest.

He could handle a damn ballet class.

 

“Okay everyone, let’s go through that again. And remember, slow and controlled is the key.”

Bucky tried valiantly to ignore the ominous quivering in his thighs and calves by looking over his shoulder to try to sneak a glare at the ballet instructor. They’d been “going over the basic warm ups” for forty five minutes now and Bucky was seriously wondering if the instructor was a not so secret sadist. There were only so many barre exercises a man could do before it felt like his legs were going to fall off. Which was saying something considering just how much time Bucky spent essentially doing squats during practices, games, and his actual workouts.

There was a reason his ass looked as fantastic as it did after all.

Of course, once he did manage to catch a glimpse of the teacher, Bucky only managed to blush fiercely as he turned back, cursing the mirror that proclaimed his shame to the women on either side of him. Not to mention, reminding himself at how lame he was.

It wasn’t his fault that Steve the ballet instructor was too damn hot for ~~Bucky’s~~ his own good.

Okay, Bucky would admit, when he’d signed up for the class, he hadn’t really paid attention to the instructor’s name and _of course_ he’d done the sexist thing and assumed a woman would be teaching. That particular ignorance was completely on him but come on, he couldn’t help but be shocked by the fact that the dude who looked like he would fit in on any hockey team was walking up and down behind the students.

“Don’t swing your leg, James,” Steve’s voice said entirely too close to Bucky, which of course startled him into very nearly kicking the mirror in front of him. He froze as he felt a large body enter his personal space. “Lift your leg slowly. Lift, not swing.”

Bucky looked up in the mirror to see Steve standing behind him, arms crossed over his massive chest with his gaze intent on Bucky’s movements. Thankfully Bucky was used to being under scrutiny so he managed to not make a complete ass of himself as he repeated the move, being extra sure to “lift”.

He was really really starting to hate the word “lift”. 

“Great job,” Steve said, flashing a smile that had no damn right being that gorgeous. “We’ll make a dancer out of you yet.”

Steve then turned and continued walking down the line, pausing to talk to two girls just a bit down from Bucky. His back was turned towards him and Bucky certainly didn’t risk a glance at Steve’s ass. He was just showing some appreciation for a fellow athlete’s impressively muscled legs. It had nothing to do with the way Steve’s yoga pants hugged said muscles.

Nope. Not at all.

“Looking good, guys,” Steve said cheerily, clapping his hands and addressing the whole class a while later. “I think you’re definitely getting the idea. Now it’s getting close to that time…” The women on either side of Bucky stepped back from the barre and Bucky, thinking that class must be coming to a close, slumped against the barre. 

_Thank god_ , he thought, attempting to hide the fact he was a teeny bit winded. _Not sure how many of those I had left in me…_

“But as they say, practice makes perfect,” Steve continued, the cheer in his voice making Bucky’s stomach sink, “so let’s squeeze in one more go round, okay? Ready and…”

_Fuck_ , Bucky thought as he dragged his ass back up. _The guy is a goddamn sadist._

 

“You know, I know it’s probably very unprofessional of me to say this, but I was pretty shocked when I saw your name on my sign up list.”

Bucky, still in the process of putting his sneakers back on, looked up to see Steve standing in front of him. The studio was fairly empty at this point considering how long it had taken Bucky to drag his sorry ass to the bench as he thanked the lord that none of his trainers were here to see how tired a ballet class had made him. 

“Well, I’m not gonna lie,” Bucky said, hoping he sounded as smooth as he thought he did as he desperately needed to gain back some cool points, “I was pretty surprised myself when I actually signed up.”

Steve smiled and chuckled. “So why did you?” he asked, walking over to sit on the bench and face Bucky. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want but I’m curious. Usually it’s the rookies who sign up for classes, hoping it’ll give them an edge. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy who’d been playing as long as you suddenly decide to jump on the bandwagon.”

He was right of course. It was a bit out of the blue for someone with as many years under his belt to suddenly invest in something like this. Usually guys Bucky’s age were already starting to fear the end of their careers due to either injury or their bodies just giving out and were trying to lessen the strain on their bodies where they could. In fact, couple of the guys who Bucky had known for years had recently thrown in the towel which had been a bit of a wakeup call in and of itself but that wasn’t what had triggered Bucky’s desire to better his game.

That honor went to the fight from last month. The fight he’d almost lost.

 

To be honest, after the initial dropping of his gloves, Bucky didn’t remember much about that fight. It had been a rough game to start, complete with dirty checks and shitty calls by the refs that had everyone’s dander up, but when one of the goons from the Baltimore Dragons had set his sights on Bucky, things had gotten even rougher.

All Bucky knew, thanks to some (only slightly exaggerated) recollections from his linemates, was that Rumlow had started wailing on him almost immediately, going for his face again and again and by some goddamn miracle Bucky had gotten a lucky shot that nailed the asshole right in the chin. And luckily for him, Rumlow apparently had a glass jaw. A funny thing for a hockey player to have but Bucky wasn’t going to question it too much.

But later that night, as Bucky had examined the growing bruises on his jaw in his hotel bathroom, he’d had the gut twisting revelation that he couldn’t be an enforcer forever.

Sure he was still big and muscled but even Bucky was forced to admit, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. He was still quick enough to take out most of the young hot heads who wanted to try and take a shot at him to prove they had balls of steel but the fight with Rumlow had driven home the simple fact that Bucky was getting older and that wasn’t going to change. 

So, after a long night of deep thought, Bucky decided to change up his game.

 

“Well, they’re always saying you’re never too old to learn,” Bucky said, working very hard to look casual as he sat up. Steve was making it very difficult to act natural of course, sitting there with all his graceful posture and earnest expression. Bucky chuckled nervously. “I’ve decided I’m tired of trying to punch my way out of everything. Thought it might be a smart move to be able to skillfully maneuver myself out instead.”

Steve smiled that ridiculously distracting smile again, chuckling as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Brooklyn’s best enforcer is turning over a new leaf?” he asked, not unkindly. He shook his head. “I never thought I would see the day. Getting tired of being in the sin bin all the time?”

Bucky perked up at this, more shocked than he’d like to admit at not only hearing his ballet instructor casually drop hockey slang but showing that he knew more about Bucky than he’d initially let on. “You watch hockey?” he blurted out, right before flinching at how damn rude that had sounded. 

Thankfully Steve wasn’t offended though he did laugh at Bucky’s shock. He delicately swung once muscled leg so that (dear lord in heaven, bless Bucky’s soul) he was straddling the bench and facing him.

“Yeah, I watch hockey,” Steve said with a grin. “I’m from Brooklyn, how could I not support you guys?” He paused for a second and Bucky was over the moon to see a tiny bit of a blush on Steve’s cheeks. “Hell of a game the other night. I was sitting on the edge of my couch of the last fifteen minutes.”

Smiling, Bucky mirrored Steve on the bench out of genuine excitement of chatting with someone who wasn’t a teammate or friend of his about the game. “I know what you mean,” he said with a nod. “Providence has a great team this year and they made us work for that win though to be honest, I don’t think I would’ve been too upset it we lost. They would’ve earned it just as much as we had.”

To his delight, Steve leaned forward. “So, and you’ll have to excuse me for being such a nosey fan but I gotta at least ask, just how damn fast is Maximoff because I swear sometimes he’s like a blur in the damn net…”

 

If it hadn’t been for the chirping of Steve’s phone alerting him that his next class was due in the studio soon, Bucky was sure they would’ve sat there talking for hours. Steve asked a ton of questions which was something that usually annoyed Bucky but that usual irritation never showed itself. He happily sat on that uncomfortable bench in Steve’s studio, answering questions about his training regime, explaining the ins and outs of being on the road, and bragging about his teammates. 

“Oh, sorry,” Steve said, glancing down at his phone. “I didn’t mean to take up all your time. You’re probably so busy with everything.”

“No problem,” Bucky said, breaking out what he believed was his extra charming smile. “I didn’t mind at all. Who knows, maybe this will keep you from torturing me with leg raises next class.”

Steve chuckled. It was a deeper sound that surprised Bucky with the hint of wicked intent it held. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Bucky,” he said with a smirk tugging his lips. “I’m still here to whip you into dancing shape and, despite what people think, it’s going to be tough work. What kind of teacher would I be if I took it easy on you?” 

Bucky swallowed, his mind utterly destroyed by the playfully (but still just as effective) stern look in Steve’s eyes. “A merciful one?” Bucky offered. His attempt to be a smartass was ruined by the hesitancy he heard in his own voice.

“Oh Bucky,” Steve said with a laugh. “You’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for mercy from me.”

Those words said in that order by a man with that particular facial expression, all self satisfied smirk and intense blue eyes, should _not_ be as hot as they had sounded to Bucky. Luckily for Bucky’s poor fried brain, Steve saved him the task of coming up with a response to that shockingly arousing exchange.

“Well, I’ve got to go and limber up for the next class, they’re my advance students so I’ll actually have to do some dancing myself this time,” Steve said, raising himself up so gracefully from the bench it blew Bucky’s mind. He started walking over to the barre and Bucky would swear on the Stanley Cup there was an intentional swing to his hips. “I’ll see you next class, Bucky.”

Whether or not Steve was intentionally trying to make Bucky’s head explode was still up for debate but Bucky didn’t dwell on it for the moment. He was too busy trying to get out of the studio without tripping and falling on his face after glancing over to see Steve casually lift his leg up onto the barre into what basically amounted to a full split.

Maybe he _couldn’t_ handle a ballet class after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my docs for awhile now. I was going to try to make it into a big ol' story but...nothing happened. I don't think big stories are in my wheelhouse so here's what I have so far. And who knows, maybe I'll be able to add some more one shots to this 'verse someday. :)


End file.
